


Quantum Superposition

by sdlucly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Isaac Lahey Feels, M/M, No Alpha Pack, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mom, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Peter does not resurrect, Post-Season/Series 02, Scenting, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdlucly/pseuds/sdlucly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are trying to make it work, in a way. They need this to work. They aren't pack yet, but Stiles thinks, maybe, in time, they can at least find middle ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quantum Superposition

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in the fandom. I've had a thing about Derek and Stiles for a while, and this was one of the four stories I started working on last month. Thanks to piscaria for the first beta, and to cerberusia for being amazing and finishing the work. To lillian_raven for being the greatest ever, and pushing me to finish this fic. Spoilers (and possible trigger warning) at the end.

They are trying to make it work, in a way. It's fucked up in more ways than one, how they've all come together but they... they need this to work. 

They're just people, this ragtag pack, so much so that they can't even call themselves that without one or the other cringing, Stiles thinks because they can each hear the lie in their words. And Stiles just watches from the outside, hoping against hope they can find middle ground.

He doesn't mind standing on the sidelines... okay, yes, he minds, but not that much. He's not a werewolf, he's only friends with Scott, has barely exchanged fifty words with Isaac this year before him turning werewolfy, not even that much with either Erica or Boyd.

But Scott needs the pack, needs an Alpha, and Stiles would rather keep pushing him to hang out with Derek and the rest of the group than see him end up an omega and cut in half for his troubles. 

So they do this, the whole pack meeting thing, and even Stiles starts going there from time to time. The first time because Scott insisted, the second because he knew the rest wouldn't mind. They meet at Derek's... depot, if you might call it that. Derek's. Whatever. The depot, and it's horrible and humid and full of mold and nobody really wants to meet there more than they have to. 

He's trying, too, in his own way. So on one of those meetings, Stiles approaches Boyd before Derek really gets going on whatever it is he wants to tell them today. 

"Hey."

Boyd barely turns around, lifts his head a bit. Boyd has made stoic into an art form. Stiles is actually kinda impressed.

"Hey," Stiles says, figures, well, he might as well just give it a shot. "Scott mentioned you were having trouble with Algebra." Scott mentioned more than that. He went into this whole diatribe that Boyd was doing really lousy in Algebra (which Boyd is actually taking with Scott) and how Scott would help him if only he knew enough to save his own ass and Boyd's, which he doesn't. And how he wanted to tell Derek (because it should be the job of an Alpha to care about stuff like that) but he'd probably end up fighting with Derek about it and he'd rather not.

Boyd grumbles under his breath, and if Stiles didn't know Scott doesn't do that, he'd think it was a werewolf thing. 

"Yeah, well, I thought. Well. I took Algebra last semester. I could help you out? If you want, that is."

Boyd seems surprised, and truth be told, Stiles kinda is as well. He hadn't thought he'd end up offering at the end. He was ninety percent sure he'd freak and chicken out at the end. Go him.

Boyd blinks a couple more times before nodding, slowly, still very much unsure. Stiles nods as well.

"Cool," Stiles says after a moment. "We could. I don't know. Meet after school this week. When you're free."

"Yeah, sure," Boyd says, still slightly uncertain and Stiles figures, well, leave while you're ahead.

Good, see? Trying. Just like Scott doing his best not to bitch at Derek at every single pack meeting.

Not an hour later, Scott goes all, "Damn it, Derek, if you would just--" and Stiles has to sigh. Well. It's a bit of a work in progress, that.

*****

They finish their sophomore year not dead and almost a pack, and at the beginning of summer they move the meetings to Derek's new apartment (big, airy and actually kinda nice loft), talking about training (the wolves) while Stiles continues his ongoing mission of putting together their own bestiary, even if nobody else cares about it but him. 

They help Isaac move into Derek's apartment, to have a room after only having a train carriage in the depot. 

They go out that night, as a group, and they end up frolicking like dogs at the edges of the preserve while Stiles tries to talk a delivery guy to coming to the middle of nowhere. It seems easier for them to be together when they're in their beta forms, like they can recognize each other as pack more than as friends.

The air around them isn't comfortable, but it's good, and it's getting there, and Stiles figures that's as much as he can ask. 

Summer goes in a blur of training and getting used to each other, of trying to become friends before they can even attach the word pack, the word that Stiles knows for a fact at first would give the wolves the heart stutter of a lie in each other's ears. Stiles doesn't know if even now, months later, the word might sound like a lie, but he doesn't dare ask. He's worried about jinxing it.

They hang out more in the summer, without classes and only part time work to hold them over. He goes to the movies with Boyd and Erica, has Playstation battles with Isaac and Scott, has dinner with Derek and Isaac and Scott one night, barely ten words passed in between.

The first meeting on their junior year happens in Derek's loft, and when Stiles walks in, Derek's sitting on the couch, in the corner, book on his hand while waiting for the rest of the pack. Isaac should be in his room, Stiles thinks, but he's not sure. Sometimes Stiles gives Isaac a ride, if he can and Isaac doesn't choose to go with Scott. But he didn't today.

It's weird, seeing Derek do something as normal as reading a book, but he guesses he has to, right? Do normal stuff, like pay his rent and utilities, do the groceries and read. So, yeah, no, still weird.

It's still too shaky, too weak, this thing they are. Stiles doesn't think they are pack, he doesn't consider Derek his Alpha, but they aren't strangers anymore. At least, he doesn't believe so. 

And because Stiles never learned how to leave things true and well alone, how to let sleeping dogs (ha!) lie, he makes his way to Derek's side. The living room is empty, and he has this very small window before one of the others makes their way to the apartment, or Isaac actually comes down.

"I thought I should give you this," he says, handing Derek a thick file, kept together by a rubber band.

Derek blinks for a second before lifting his eyes to Stiles, but he doesn't take the file. Derek lifts one 

Stiles sighs, window closing so very fast. "Look, just..." He harrumphs, shaking his head. "Here. Just. Whatever."

He turns around and makes his way to the other side of the room, where his backpack is on the floor and his AP Trig book is wide open, leaning back against the wall and sliding down. He knows he's pushing too far and too fast, but man. He can't. He couldn't stop himself last week when he started everything, and he knew had to give it to Derek.

He places the book on his lap and doesn't say a word as he can imagine Derek probably looking over at him (almost certain Derek's looking over at him) before opening the file and looking at what's in there. So, five, four, three, two...

Stiles hears Derek standing up and not quite rushing upstairs to his room to hide the file (and really go over it, later, after the pack meeting). That's good, that's great. The paperwork for getting back the Hale property has been filled and filed, it's just a matter of paying the back taxes and the penalty for not actually paying the original taxes. Because that's Derek's land, his family's land for about four generations, and it has been in the county's property for too long.

In there is also the paperwork already filed with the County and City Hall, the required permits for the rebuild of the house. There're fees to pay for that, too, but it's not about that. It's about the fact those papers don't have a date, that it could happen this week or next month or never. That it's Derek's choice, it will always be Derek's choice, but it's there, it's... it's like chess, and he's set the table and put the pieces in place, but it's Derek who has to check the queen, to beat the king.

That's gonna cost him, he knows. Derek will probably not speak to him for weeks, months. He could even get kicked out of the pack. But. He knows Derek enough to know that, alone, he would have never even started the paperwork. Stiles has done what he meant to, to push him in the right direction. And if Derek gets pissed at him for that... he's willing to take that chance.

He tries to pay attention to his homework while Derek doesn't come out of his room, and it's there that he notices Isaac getting out five bags of chips, three brand new packets of Oreos and another of chocolate chip cookies and putting them on the table they've set up on the side of the living room. The living room that only has one couch and two chairs, but, same thing.

Stiles can't help but wonder where they got all that, and who did the shopping, because Derek would have never pegged him as the worrying about them eating type. After Isaac has put it all out, he kinda shuffles his way to his side. Stiles looks up and smiles at him, because it's Isaac, and there's nothing easier than smiling at him.

Stiles wants to pat the floor by his side, and only stops himself from doing it for a second before actually doing it. Isaac gives him a curl of his lips, barely even a smile, before dropping to the ground.

"Have you finished the paper on Japan and its industry?"

Stiles nods, even though what he wrote was a paper on Oppenheimer and his work on the Manhattan project and the Trinity test in New Mexico. A part of him thinks he wrote that whole thing only to be able to quote him in "I am to become death, the destroyer of worlds", but that's between him and his History teacher.

"There's a test on that and World War II on Friday, right?"

"Yep," Stiles says, making a popping sound on the _p_ , knowing he won't really study for it. WWII is actually his favorite war.

"I was hoping you could--" Isaac starts, stammers there for a bit, and Stiles can't help but chuckle, nudge Isaac with his shoulder. Isaac doesn't even move, the ass. 

"Sure, no problem. I have some notes, well, a lot of notes, and some links that I could send you. Cliff notes, pretty much."

Isaac nods, ducking his head as he does so, bashfully. Stiles curls his hands into a fist to stop himself from reaching out and running his fingers through Isaac's curls. Man, really. When he's not grinning like a homicidal wolf, Isaac can be cute as a puppy. Not that he's gonna tell him that to his face. Well, maybe not yet.

Stiles keeps on going through his Trig notes, Isaac slightly leaning against Stiles' right shoulder. Stiles holds still for a second, then keeps on passing the pages with his left hand. They sit there for about fifteen minutes, and how is it that everyone always arrives late? Stiles knows at least Scott went to try to talk to Allison (after the whole, not seeing each other all summer thing), again, but really, the least he can do is get here on time.

Derek finally comes down as Boyd and Erica are arriving, and Isaac rubs against Stiles' shoulder for a second before standing up and going to him, meeting him at the end of the stairs.

Stiles very quickly looks down, and pretends he can't feel Derek staring at him.

"Hey, Derek?"

Derek makes a noncommittal sound and Stiles keeps on staring down at his book.

"I was wondering if... you can say no, I mean." Isaac pauses, and when Stiles glances up, he can see Isaac shifting on his feet. Stiles feels for the guy, whatever it is he's gonna ask. "I was wondering if I could keep some stuff in my room?"

Derek must be as thrown as Stiles, because Derek actually frowns, lifting one eyebrow. "Some stuff?"

"Yeah," Isaac says, and there's a grimace on his face, like he's totally expecting Derek to say no to him.

Derek frowns, and blinks there for a second, and though his face is blank, Stiles would bet Derek doesn't get it either. "Sure," Derek says, slowly.

Isaac beams, grinning from ear to ear and his whole face changes. Even his curls look curlier and brighter and holy shit, Isaac really does have the prettiest smile. "Thanks," Isaac says softly, ducking his head again, and goes to the table and opens one of the chips and leaves it open before taking one out.

He wants to ask Derek what that was about, and then ask Isaac what he wants to keep in his room (is it a body? Weaponry? Wolfsbane?), but he's pushed Derek enough for one day (a week, a month?) and then Scott walks into the loft and he looks dejected as hell and Stiles leaves his book on the floor to talk to Scott, distract him by reminding him that they have that English paper due tomorrow and of course Scott has forgotten.

He doesn't even notice that by the end of the meeting, all the food is gone.

*****

Stiles' taking Social Studies with both Lydia and Erica, and he can see the two pair up for the class, sitting together and talking. They aren't giggling like best friends, but Lydia has been coming to training a couple of times, so this is good. This, he thinks, they can work with.

He sits behind Lydia, and she smiles at him over her shoulder, and Erica blows him a kiss. Stiles laughs.

*****

He sits with Isaac on his left in History, and he's almost certain he didn't take his Adderall this morning because his mind is all over the place. The teacher is talking and talking and Stiles is thinking about training this weekend, and trying to talk to Allison herself (not about getting back together with Scott) and when he glances to his side and Isaac is clipping coupons.

Stiles blinks and then he remembers, seeing Isaac do the same thing when they were younger, still in middle school. He didn't use to talk to Isaac then (he didn't use to talk to anyone but Scott back then), but Stiles remembers him, and he remembers the coupons.

He leans to his side, about to ask Isaac about it when the teacher says, "Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles grimaces, turns around and gives the teacher a big smile. "Hmm. Could you repeat the question?"

The teacher does, and he ends up talking about the Nazca Lines in Ica, Peru (going on a tangent and naming all the countries in South America), and it's not about ten minutes into his rant that he remembers he was asked about the struggle for woman's rights. Oh, crap.

*****

They train in the preserve, because it's the one place where all five of them can shift and no one will notice. Stiles stays by his jeep and either does research or his homework or works on papers for college kids (his Jeep goes through gas like it's going out of style and he doesn't have the time for a part time job, so sue him) or tries to find something else to keep his mind occupied.

Derek doesn't mention the papers to Stiles, and Stiles never expected anything different. They just don't... talk. About it. At all.

Stiles can't do silences, but here, on this? He will. He'll fucking bite on his tongue, if he has to.

*****

Scott and Allison are trying the whole just friends thing, but Stiles doesn't know if it's working. What he does know is that he's a human running with wolves, and that Lydia has also started hanging out, going even more often since the beginning of the year. Maybe because the one person that can understand Lydia (and the thing with Jackson and him leaving) is them. So that makes Team Human a two person group, and they need training. Different kind of training, but training all the same.

So Stiles talks to Allison. It takes some convincing, but about two months into school, she agrees to train them, Lydia and him.

He talks to Derek about it, which goes as well as expected.

"She's a hunter!"

Stiles takes in a deep breath, tries to count to ten and barely reaches two. "Dude. I'm human, Lydia is immune, ergo, human. We can't... we can't train like you do! You break my arm, I sure as hell am not gonna be fine by dinner!"

Derek folds his arms over his chest, saying nothing but his eyebrows sure as hell express disapproval. "She's--"

"She's not her parents, and you know it. She's not even her dad. Hell, her dad might be slightly fanatical at times, but he still has a code." And Stiles knows that's saying a lot, after the whole Victoria and Gerard thing.

Derek's eyes narrow. "She could do something. You two--"

"No, she's not like that." Stiles cringes as Derek just looks at him, not needing to voice that Allison almost killed them all not a few months ago. "Not anymore. Okay? Not anymore. I've talked to her and--"

"Stiles, damn it! Let me finish a fucking sentence."

Stiles blinks, pauses, and nods. Okay, he'd give Derek that.

Stiles watches Derek take in a deep breath. He holds onto his words. He'll let Derek go through the idea, the option. He wasn't demanding Allison come and train them, he was asking Derek. He was asking his Alpha. 

The thought shocks him, leaves him breathless as Derek just looks out into the preserve as the pups frolic around, kinda like playing tag. 

Derek stands there in silence for so long, Stiles lets out a long breath.

"She doesn't have to come, you know? I didn't tell her it was a done deal. I just asked her, she agreed, and I told her I'd ask you and get back to her." He pauses, watches Derek's jaw set and his hands not quite curl into claws. "Lydia and I can train with you, after the wolves have--"

"No, you're right."

Stiles blinks, turns to look at Derek, truthfully taken back. He hadn't expected Derek to agree. Not without a hell of a fight.

"She... I can't train you like her. Humans are..." Derek frowns, glances back at the preserve. 

For a second, Stiles can't help but wonder how many humans were in Derek's family, back then. If he had human cousin that he'd tackle and end up bruising. If Derek's mom would ground him for stuff like that. Stiles shakes his head, tells himself to focus on the here and now, that those thoughts aren't his to have.

After a second, Derek continues. "You need someone that has the right training." And that's not him, both Stiles and Derek know.

Stiles nods, a small smile on his lips. He nudges Derek with his shoulder, like Isaac has taken to do with him, and Derek turns to look at him, almost surprised. "Good. Thanks. I'll... I'll talk to her. See if we can train here, next week, while you are with the wolves."

Derek nods, but stands there, doesn't move. Stiles waits for him to say something else, and after a minute, Derek says, "I'll go round up the pups."

Stiles wants to say something, make a joke out of the word, but for some reason, he doesn't. The atmosphere between seems to demand quiet and respect, as if the thought of the Hales Stiles never met has left him shaken, and maybe has. 

He nods, biting on his lower lip, keeping himself from fucking up what they've done. Instead, he leans back against the jeep, watching Derek go deeper into the preserve. A moment later, he hears Derek howl, and smiles.

*****

They meet at least twice a week. One to train at the preserve, and another day to just hang out (or talk and do homework) either at Derek's apartment, or at Stiles' house when his dad is at work, Stiles' house being bigger than Scott's so everyone can fit there without much problem.

Allison starts coming around more, not only the days to train, but also the pack days as well. She's still best friends with Lydia, so that helps, and she's nice to Erica, and Boyd, though quiet around Isaac.

It's Stiles that asks Derek about it, if Allison can come, after Lydia asks him about it. Derek isn't happy about it, but she's friendly with everyone now, and what happened last year, happened last year. Stiles is really trying to make everyone turn a new leaf. And after Allison has been training with them for over a month, Derek agrees. 

Stiles watches them, and wonders if this is the beginning of something, even bigger than just Derek biting three new betas and trying to talk Scott into not being an omega.

He notices the small things, trying to stand still as everyone else moves around (either at Derek's apartment or his own house). The way Boyd talks more to Scott now, and Erica can make Allison laugh with a smart reply and a grin, how Isaac still takes out food from his bedroom and places it on the table, how Derek doesn't stand as much apart as he used to. 

He doesn't want to call them pack yet, at least not aloud, not just yet... but they are almost, not quite, there.

*****

The kitchen in the apartment is tiny, and Derek has no cooking ware at all, so the pack has been surviving on take out. It goes against everything Stiles believes, but man, he knows when to pick his battles, and they are still too new, so Stiles figures, well, he'll let them have the grease for now.

Instead, he makes sandwiches for lunch when he's there. He's surprised to find the cabinets full with toilet paper and paper towels, with sausages packages and boxes of cereal. 

He's feeling crafty today, and he finds a whole chicken in the fridge, avocado in one of the cabinets, along with pickles. There's enough for one round of sandwiches, and there are enough cold cuts to make the second round. And if the wolves are still hungry? Well, then Stiles can give in and call for takeout.

Stiles' just finishing placing all the sandwiches in one very large plate (he hates doing the dishes) when Erica and Boyd just kinda rush in. it's been raining, Stiles could hear it against the windows, and holy shit he has to bite his lips not to yell "don't treat mud inside, damn it!". God, he's turning into his dad. Or his mom. He thinks that might be worse.

"Would you please--?" Stiles ends up saying, and before he can finish the sentence (thank god!), Erica's reaching for the plate and shoving half the sandwich in her mouth. "Erica, God, at least chew--"

"Thiw ish so gaad!"

"--with your mouth closed, man." Stiles shakes his head and he knows he's being hypocritical, but he's certain it looks worse in a girl. Not that he's going to say that aloud, but really. "Erica."

She gives him a big grin, teeth green from the avocado, and Stiles just shakes his head.

Boyd's nodding along, taking another small bite, and swallowing before speaking. "It's amazing, Stiles."

Stiles shrugs, reaching for a sandwich himself. Meanwhile, Erica's already on her second. "it's pretty easy to make."

"It'sh graat!"

Stiles chuckles, almost choking on his own bite. "Erica!"

"Mawy feivoorate!"

Boyd's laughing as Erica reaches for her third sandwich, and Stiles can only yell, "it's for everyone! Erica!"

*****

Stiles gets a call from Derek, on Saturday morning after Friday training. He frowns, and for a second he can't help but think, this is it, the other shoe dropping. Everything has been quiet, too quiet lately, and this is where everything goes to shit.

He's answering even as he's looking for his shoes and reaching for his keys, almost tripping against his own jeans and face planting on his desk chair.

"What happened? Is everyone okay?"

There's a pause on the other line, and Stiles checks to make sure they haven't been disconnected. They haven't. "Derek?"

"Yeah, everything's... everything's fine, Stiles. I just called because, well. I wanted to talk to your dad."

Stiles sits down heavily in his desk chair. What, why? "My dad?"

"Yes, I wanted to make sure he'd be at your house this morning."

"Oh. He will." Stiles can feel his heart slowing its pace, his breathing relaxing. God. Talk about jumping the gun. "He had the late shift yesterday. He should be up around eleven."

"Good. Thanks." A pause, Stiles still confused as hell. "See you later, Stiles."

Stiles hears the click, his phone this time actually disconnected. Weird. So fucking weird.

*****

Derek does go to his house to talk to his dad, and Stiles tries his best to listen from the second floor. He knows Derek knows that he's there, but he doesn't care. If Derek didn't want to be overheard, he could have seen his dad at the Sheriff's office.

Derek asks his dad to help him on the permits for the demolition and following construction for the Hale house. He says he wants to do it sooner rather than later, now that he's started the process. 

If his dad is half as shocked as Stiles is, he doesn't show it in his tone. His dad agrees to talk to the right people and get the permits expedited.

Derek doesn't ask his dad about Stiles, not that Stiles was expecting him to. But still. Stiles just hides in his bedroom for a while, wondering if Derek will come see him, climb through the window. Derek doesn't. And Stiles doesn't call him. 

Maybe it's better this way.

*****

Stiles googles how long it would take to get a medium house built, and turns out it's between three and four months. He thinks that's a good timeframe; they can all handle that.

Whomever Derek hires, does it in a about days short of three months. After that, it's up to the pa-- up to them to get the finishing touches. It's actually kinda fun. Stiles does his research, learns things about insulation and for a moment considers talking Derek about having a green house, with solar panels and a heating system that shouldn't need electricity. But he's pushed enough, too much already, so he keeps quiet. 

It's a good bonding experience for the whole group, he thinks, painting the rooms and making decision like trimming or no trimming, curtains or drapes. They end up having a late dinner the first Friday after the structure of the house is finished. There isn't any furniture or even appliances, so when it's almost seven at night and they are still there, Stiles ends up calling the pizza place and once again, talking the guy into delivering over there, a promise of a very big tip at the end of the trail that still looks like it's out of a slasher B- movie. They really need to do something about that trail. He'll have to talk to Lydia about it.

They end up having dinner in the big living room of the house, wide open and still on nothing but wood, no floors placed yet. The walls aren't even primed. The French doors are open, letting in the breeze of afternoon, the smell of the preserve. 

There isn't much to do, considering they don't have a TV (no furniture, like, at all) and even if they did, they sure as hell don't have cable. So instead they eat and then, again, end up running wildly in the preserve. Stiles sits on the on barely sanded wood at the edge of the deck, and watches them tumble and shove at each other. Lydia and Allison sit with him, the humans running with the werewolf pack.

After the wolves have come back, they say their goodbyes and get in their cars. Scott leaves with Allison, and Stiles might worry about Scott wanting to talk to her about getting back together, only Lydia thanks Allison about giving her a ride as well, and Stiles breathes out.

Isaac leaves with Derek and Boyd and Erica leave together; Stiles doesn't think they are going straight home.

"You okay to drive?" Derek asks, hand on the opened driver's door. Isaac's already sitting inside.

Stiles blinks, taken aback. They haven't had anything to drink, they never do, because Derek thinks it's bad form, considering he's the only adult and Isaac and him are still sixteen, even if everyone else is seventeen. And it's only a little after midnight.

"Yeah," Stiles says, the word ending in a yawn. Okay, so he has been missing sleep, what with lacrosse practice and the three AP classes he's taking, and tutoring Erica with Algebra now, considering he did a pretty good job with Boyd last year. And the training. And the research, and the thing with the fairies that only got fixed three days ago. He waves it off, yawning as he does so. God. "I'm fine."

Derek's eyes narrow, and Stiles can see his hand closing a little bit more on the edge of the door. "Stiles--"

"God, I'm fine. Don't worry. Just." He waves it off again, reaching for his keys to open the Jeep. He's not a child and it's Friday and he plans to sleep until noon tomorrow, so it doesn't matter. "Just go. I'm good."

Derek seems to be on the verge of wanting to say something else (not that there is anything to say, because he can't drive Stiles and leave the Camaro and Isaac doesn't drive, and he's not leaving his Jeep here), when Isaac speaks up. 

"Text me when you get home," Isaac suggests, small smile on his lips. His curls have gotten really long, Stiles notices, falling into his eyes. "Just to know. That you got there okay?"

It ends in a question, and Stiles can't help but soften a little at it, turning to look at Derek. Derek, who's sighing under his breath, his eyes losing its slanted angle. 

"Yeah, sure. Great. Great idea," Stiles says before Derek can come up with a counter proposal. He waves at them, getting into the driver's side. "Bye!"

Derek's eyes narrow again, though not as much as before. "Drive safe," he insists, like Stiles would ever drive any other way.

"Text me!" Isaac calls out, just before Stiles nods, waves at them again, and pulls out of the driveway right behind them.

He's thinking about his History paper (this time he really should try to do it in the subject they are asking about, not, you know, on a tangent) and his Calculus homework that he really should get started on. But tomorrow. He'll do that tomorrow, after he's had ten hours sleep and after a good breakfast (omelets! No, hash browns!) and a long shower and--

The honking of a car makes him start, and he realizes that he's had his eyes closed, that he'd been half asleep and half dreaming in the middle of the street, at a red light that's now green. He blinks rapidly, his hands flailing before his left hand rubs at his face and he shifts to second with his right one, turning left down the avenue, the guy behind him still honking at him.

He's panting, heart racing, and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. Damn it. He knows better than to go a whole week with less three hours of sleep a night, but man, things had gotten complicated, but now. Sleep. Yes, sleep.

He reaches his house, safe and sound, and when he checks his cell phone, he notices he has three missed texts from Isaac.

_we're already at the apartment, you home?_

_did you start the history paper?_

_Stiles?_

Stiles doesn't need werewolfy senses to notice that Isaac's worried, and he's certain that if Isaac's worried, Derek's a second away from actually calling him, so he answers the last text as he fumbles with his keys.

_haven't started yet. will do that 2morrow. home now off 2 bed gn_

Yep. That's it. No need to comment about the red/green light incident. Nope. No point at all.

Stiles makes his way up the stairs, notices the ajar door leading to his father's bedroom. He stops himself from checking on him, mostly because he doesn't want to wake him up and end up being asked what he's doing home so late.

He thinks fleetingly about Mrs. McCall, about Scott telling her and Stiles shakes his head as he makes his way down to his own bedroom.

He'll tell his dad when the time is right, when he can't push it off anymore. He'll tell his dad on his own terms.

Stiles places his cellphone on his nightstand, doesn't hear an answering text as he lies down. He's asleep before he can keep thinking about his dad, the red light, or the pack.

*****

It doesn't take long to make the Hale house habitable, not with Lydia on it and Allison actually excited about decorating it, plus Erica wanting to help them both.

Isaac and Derek of course have rooms of their own in the house, and the rest of the pack (still not saying it aloud, though, no one has actually) can have one each as well (there are eight rooms in the house, five in the second floor and three more in the upper floor, without counting the study in the first floor), but Stiles couldn't stay overnight there, and Erica's mom would freak if she spent the night somewhere that wasn't her house. Boyd could crash there from time to time, but he has younger siblings, and he'd still have to make it back to his house for breakfast and that's just impractical.

The rest of the house is mostly wide open spaces, filled with windows and the sun hitting the house at just the right angle.

They start spending more time there, afternoons doing homework and Stiles tutoring Boyd in Chem, and Allison helping Erica in Pre-Calc and Erica returning the favor with Spanish. 

He's actually waiting for Boyd, sitting in the living room with his Physics book opened in his lap, sneakers off and legs folded under him on the couch. He's going over his notes when he notices that Isaac's opening newspapers on top of the center table and starting to cut coupons. The TV is on, and Stiles thinks Isaac is actually watching the Top Chef that's playing as background noise, but he still has his scissors in his hand and a stack of newspapers before him.

"Dude?"

"Huh?" Isaac asks absentmindedly, still cutting up coupons and placing them in different pockets of the blue binder. Stiles blinks, taken back. This is the first time he's seen that binder.

He shakes his head, tells himself it's Isaac's thing, and they have enough lack of privacy as it is (hanging out with werewolves, man), no need to make it even worse. "I'm gonna get a Coke, want one?"

"Sure. Sprite though."

Stiles nods and makes his way to the pantry and he can't help but gasp when he sees it. It's packed full. Literally. Packed. Full. There's toilet paper and paper towels and Kleenex and so much soda the whole pack could drown with it. There're cleaning products (like ten bottles of three gallon laundry detergent!) and a few more things he didn't think they'd ever need (there are too many boxes of tampons) and everything seems to have been organized, but apparently at one point they run out of room and then they (whoever did the shopping) ended up packing it in between the spaces. 

He takes out a Coke and a Sprite and makes his way back to the living room. He sits down on the couch, and nudges Isaac in the leg with his sock clad foot. Isaac makes his small sound under his breath, not quite a whine, more like a question. It sounds a little bit like recognition, a lot like contentment. It's only because of that that Stiles doesn't move his foot. They are trying to do this more, too, the whole touching thing. Stiles has done his research, and as werewolves they should be more tactile, but they've been (or the rest has been) human before, so it's still not natural for them, not second nature.

Stiles presses his toes against the underneath of Isaac's thigh. "Derek went a bit overboard with the whole providing for the pack thing, huh?"

"What?" Isaac tilts his head to the side, confused. He still hasn't dropped the scissors, or moved his leg.

"The pantry?" Stiles says, jerking his head over his shoulder and nudging Isaac with his foot, again. "It's packed full. There're tons of--"

"Oh, that." Isaac pauses in his cutting, lowers his head. His curls fall over his face again. "I did the shopping." He says with a shrug, slightly bashfully. "We didn't have room in the loft, and before--" Isaac pauses and Stiles doesn't push. Neither of them push, when anyone talks about before. "I just got enough to get us by."

Stiles stays silent, because he knows with Isaac it's always best to give him time to get his ideas in order. He only presses his whole sole against Isaac's leg, tells himself it should feel comforting.

"I mean, before, it sucked because you don't really get a lot of the best offers when you only get two laundry detergents. But my dad hated it when I would clutter the kitchen." Isaac shrugs again. Isaac does that a lot, shrugging, the times he might mention his dad. "Nevermind that it was all food, you know?"

And suddenly things click together, and Stiles realizes that the coupons thing hasn't started just now, has been going on for a while. "You got all that... with coupons?"

It's not like Stiles' dad makes a lot as a public servant, and he kinda remembers his mom clipping coupons when he was a kid, but after she died, they kinda just survived on TV dinners and take out. He remembers that. And truth is, neither his dad nor him had the patience or the inclination for clipping.

"Yeah, it wasn't that hard."

Stiles doesn't think so, but he says nothing, nodding as he does so. He reaches for his Physics book and pen, needing something on his hands. He shifts as he does so, and ends up moving his foot from Isaac's leg.

Isaac makes a another small sound under his throat, and Stiles almost doesn't notice, like a whine. Stiles' chewing on the cap of the pen when Isaac shrugs. "Besides, it's not like it's going to go to waste. We tend to get through food pretty fast."

The food for the meetings. Right. No wonder Isaac was getting it out of his bedroom. God, how could Stiles not notice.

Stiles takes in a breath, counts to three and then lets it out. "You were keeping the food in your bedroom?" His voice is pretty steady when he asks that, he's very proud.

Isaac frowns, turning around to look at Stiles like he's crazy. "No. Well, only when I run out of space in the kitchen." Isaac pouts, this very cute look on his face, curls falling over his eyes. "That kitchen only had like three cupboards, and two drawers. Almost nothing fit in there." He shrugs, counting his coupons before placing them in a pocket binder that just says seven. "I had to keep some in my bedroom, and under my bed."

Okay. Okay. Hmm. He needs his laptop, and he needs it right now.

"At least here is bigger."

Yeah, no kidding a whole room. Isaac must be ecstatic. 

Stiles shifts and moves, folding just one leg under himself, so his toes are touching the side of Isaac's leg. Isaac seems to relax minutely, closing his binder and watching the cooking show. Stiles smiles at him, even though Isaac isn't paying any attention to him. He looks down at his book and tries to read.

*****

Stiles does his research that night, laptop open and clicking one link after the next after the next. There's conflicting information. Some people think couponing is a mental illness, others (couponers) express that they do not have a mental illness, that there are levels of couponing and they are just feeding their families on a very tight budget and giving what they don't use to food banks and pantries. Okay, Stiles can totally see that.

There are two sides to every story, and he doesn't think it's... wrong or sick as long as it's done in a controlled manner, right? Yeah. Probably?

After a while, Stiles just leans back on his desk chair and takes a deep breath. Okay, he can do this. He'll just check how long Isaac spends on his coupons and how he's doing in History and Pre-Calc. If Isaac should be studying more, Stiles'll talk to him. Plain and simple.

*****

As far Stiles can tell Isaac is keeping his B- grade in History and B in Pre-Calc. It could be better but it's good enough, and they still have two more tests to go, so there's that. 

Still, each time Stiles goes into the pantry, either to get a can of soda or the avocado and pickles for the chicken, sliced avocado and pickle sandwich, that's Erica's favorite and apparently not even her mom makes it right, he can't help but notices even more things pressed together. It's even worse on the nights he cooks, which is about four times a week, for the starved off werewolves (because of course the best they can do is eat the cereal straight out of the box or make cold cuts).

He figures he needs to talk to Derek, at least let him know. So he goes into Derek's study, where he's sitting in an armchair, reading. Just reading. Dude. Again. 

"You need to talk to your beta," Stiles says, standing by the threshold.

"Uh huh."

And of course Derek isn't even paying him any attention. Nothing new there. Stiles folds his arms over his chest. "Derek. I'm not kidding. You need to talk to him."

"Aha."

Just like Derek, accepting something he hasn't even heard. Not really anything new. Erica had gotten a brand new laptop like that.

No matter. Stiles knows a way to get Derek to actually pay attention to him. Not really difficult, considering he's an only child. He'd turned getting attention into an art form by the time he was seven. Stiles kicks Derek's shin, where Derek has one leg folded on top of the opposite knee, making said leg fall to the ground with a satisfying thump. Stiles grins even as Derek glowers. Like pulling pigtails, only way more fun.

"I will repeat what I've said. You need to talk to Isaac. He's gotten addicted."

At this, Derek actually frowns. "Isaac?"

"Yes. You. Talk. To him." Stiles rolls his eyes. God, sometimes, Stiles wonders if Derek's parents, God rest their souls, actually taught Derek how to use his words, instead of his big, big eyebrows.

"About... what?" Derek says it like he{s asking God for patience. Wait, do werewolves believe in God? Uh. He'll have to ask Deaton later. And after Deaton doesn't tell him anything, he'll try Derek.

"Isaac. He's addicted."

"What?" Now Derek finally looks like he's actually paying attention. Good. Stiles likes that. "To what?"

Okay, so addicted might be too strong a word. But it worked. Derek's listening now. Worried, even.

"Wolfsbane-laced alcohol?" Derek sits up straight as he asks. "No way. I would have smelled it on him."

God, drama queen much, Sourwolf? "No, idiot," Derek glares, but Stiles really doesn't care, it won't be the first time he's done this, called Derek names. "To couponing."

Derek snorts. "Good joke."

"It's not. He's--" Addicted is too strong a word. "Really into that, okay? I saw his binder--"

"His what?"

"And I'm worried his grades might suffer." Stiles nods. He's hoping Isaac can reach a B+ by the end of the yeah. It'd be cutting it close, but it's not impossible. Stiles stretches his leg and nudges his knee against Derek's knee. It's a weird move, and Stiles could have very easily just fallen on top of Derek trying to do that, but he hasn't. Derek's eyes narrow. "You need to talk to him."

And Stiles must be getting better at the whole antagonizing the alpha until he gets what he wants thing, because Derek just sighs, tired and frustrated, and stands up. 

Well, there you go. Go Stiles!

*****

He thinks he's done great, paid attention to the pack and helped one of them (with something besides research). He's feeling particularly proud of himself when not even twenty minutes later, Derek returns. Stiles is at the kitchen counter, on one of the high chairs Erica loved and Lydia enabled, going through his AP Physics notes. He has a test next week and he really doesn't wanna study.

Stiles turns around on his seat, looking expectantly to Derek. Derek, who's got this very confused look on his face. It's not pretty. "Hey. How did it go? "

Derek shakes his head, like trying to disperse a confusion spell or something. "He just... he showed me the receipts from the last six times he's gone to the store." He turns to look at Stiles. Derek still doesn't look one hundred percent there. "Did you realize we go through about three hundred dollars' worth of food every week?"

What? No. That can't be right. He and his dad... okay, so they are two, and his dad mostly eats lunch out when he's at work, and Stiles always cooks dinner. And yes, they only spend about five hundred bucks on groceries a month. He should know, because he tends to do most of the groceries and certainly does all the cooking. Well, most of the cooking.

But there're four werewolves eating most of their meals here. Scott about half of his, and Stiles and Allison do tend to have dinner or at least a snack here, about three times a week. Okay, yeah, three hundred is not that farfetched.

"How do you pay for all that?" Stiles asks, because, okay. He knows for a fact Derek had the insurance money from his family and the house, but still. It's gotta be running low now, with the cost of the permits and all that. It's not like Derek's working right now. Well, he's doing this thing part time in a garage in town, but that's it. Part time. 

"Apparently, I don't." Stiles just flails while Derek sighs. "Isaac showed me the receipt. The totals where from a hundred up to almost three hundred, but after _coupons_ ," and Derek says the word like it tastes like lemon, "he never paid more than eighty bucks."

What? "What?"

Derek nods, still dazed by the whole idea of it. Stiles turns, tilts his head to the side. They are standing too close. Or Stiles' sitting and Derek's standing too close together, Stiles' knee is touching Derek's leg. Neither move.

"I told him we were worried about his grades, but he assured me that he just does it in his free time." Derek shrugs, shifting, and that only brings him closer to Stiles. They press harder together, where they touch. "He mentioned you're tutoring him--"

Stiles shakes his head. "Nope, just helping him out in History when he needs it."

Derek frowns, eyebrow furrowing. "Isaac mentioned Pre-Calc and Chem."

"Nah, he doesn't need that much help in Pre-Calc, he just gets distracted easily. And Chem, well, I think he's getting nervous around Harris, which is why he doesn't do as well as he could."

"Oh."

"But he's doing his reading, and he's all caught up with his homework."

That also catches Derek's attention. "He wasn't?"

"Just last week. The whole fairies thing." Stiles says with a shrug. No big deal, really. Everyone in the pack had fallen behind in their homework. Well, not Lydia, because she tends to go through the subject's books when she's bored, and he was only behind in Physics, the rest of papers already done because he'd been having trouble sleeping.

"But if he says he's not spending time cutting the coupons when he should be studying--" Stiles shrugs. It's not like it's not something everyone does (maybe not as much, considering the savings Isaac's showed Derek), and as long as his grades stay good.

Derek nods, following Stiles' logic. "We should keep an eye on him, though."

Stiles smiles at him, leaning back against the counter, propping himself up on an elbow. Look at Derek Hale, he can't help but think, worried about his pack's grades. Worried about the simple, day in day out stuff, standing in the middle of his kitchen, talking about the guy's schoolwork. Like they were pups. Like they are his pups.

Stiles can't help but grin, can feel it splitting his face, cheeks almost hurting. Look at Derek. God. 

"We can totally do that," Stiles says, bites back the word he wants to say, bites back _Alpha_.

*****

After that, Stiles can't help but keep a closer eye on the betas. He's always worried about Erica, because though she seems to have grown into her own beauty (after being a bitch about it at the beginning), he's still worried the guys would take her as easy, start talking about her being drop dead gorgeous now, instead of what they would say about her epilepsy before.

It's stupid, probably, to worry about her when she can defend herself better than Stiles ever could, but he does. And if he doesn't tell her about it, well, it's his thing to bear.

Stiles wants to worry about Boyd, but can't seem to find anything to worry about. Boyd has his family and his siblings, and the one thing Boyd used to want the most and never have was friends, and now he has that in spades. Oh, that, he could worry about them crowding up Boyd. He thinks Boyd is the kind of guy that might need a quiet hour or two, just to get through them being the noisy asses that they are.

Stiles could ask him. Hmm. Food for thought.

And with Isaac... it's different. Stupid too, to worry more about Isaac than the rest, considering Stiles is the weak human between the two. But it's impossible not to see it, that now that Derek has given Isaac the freedom he needed, it has allowed Isaac the room to breathe, to grow. Which is good. It's great. 

Maybe it's the family situation that Stiles can relate to. Erica has her parents, always worried about her, even now, because they don't know she will never have a seizure again. And Boyd is the oldest of five. But Isaac. Stiles knows what it feels like, to have only one person in your corner, two if they are counting Scott. And now Isaac has no one, no matter how awful his dad was, he was his dad. And Stiles can relate, but could never understand.

So he spends more time in the Hale house, doing his homework in the living room if Isaac is there (he favors the living room), or the kitchen counter when Erica and Boyd spend the afternoon with them.

They are doing their homework there, Stiles on Physics (his bane! The Moriarty to his Sherlock!) and Isaac using Stiles' laptop for a research paper. They are sitting on the couch, Stiles again without his shoes, and highlighting sentences, a little bit worried that he might end up highlighting the whole chapter, when Isaac speaks up.

"Hey, actually."

Stiles pauses, turning to look at Isaac. Isaac, that's staring down at his hands on the keyboard, not typing, just hovering. His hands close into fists and Stiles can't stop himself, shifts and stretches a leg to rubs his feet a little bit against Isaac's thigh, and tries to exude comfort and trustworthiness and affection, knows that it should smell different on him than his every day smell. He thinks Isaac could open up more, if Stiles maintains physical contact with him.

After a minute, he can almost see Isaac relaxing, his hands uncurling and falling down on the keyboard.

"I was wondering if you could help me out on a trip to the grocery store?" Isaac's looking down, still not catching Stiles' eye. But that's okay, Stiles can work with that. "I wanted to get a few more things, and I don't think I'll be able to get them all home by myself."

He nods, and can't help but think that that's something he never got around to ask asking, and should have. Because he knows no-one else in the pack drives Isaac to the store, so what, he just walks? Every time? Wow. Even for a werewolf, that's impressive.

"Sure, dude. Just tell me when."

Isaac's small answering smile is blinding.

*****

And things had been going so great...

"You need to be more careful! You can't just--"

Stiles sighs, folding his arms over his chest. It's almost funny, to see Derek so pissed off. Almost, really, being the key word. 

Boyd looks chastised enough. Hell, Boyd looked bad enough on the way over here from school. They all ended up hearing about it by lunch time (Scott actually told Stiles about it between second and third period), about how Boyd had gone off on two girls and this guy that had been talking trash about the pack, and how Boyd had gotten suspended for two days for swearing and punching the guy in the face. Stiles later found out, by Erica and Isaac, how those three had been bitching about how the _freaks_ (meaning Erica, Boyd and Isaac) had found a click with the two guys not as pathetic as them (Stiles and Scott, of course) and how they had somehow roped two hot and actually popular chicks (Allison and Lydia), and somewhere in there they had called Lydia a loser whore and Erica a twitching bitch. 

It's really no wonder Boyd went a bit Hulk on their asses. Stiles would have done the same. God, not even two days after Stiles was thinking about worrying about them, about Erica and Boyd, and this shit happens.

Isaac had been with Boyd in that class, and as they are making their way to History after lunch, Isaac ends up confessing to Stiles that Boyd's eyes had looked a little bit golden there for a sec. really, it's a miracle Boyd didn't break the guy's hand or something worse. Stiles could tell Isaac felt guilty for saying that, but told Stiles that he had to, because they'd rather Stiles explain the whole thing to Derek. Okay, no wonder they came clean with him.

Stiles had caved, and as they reached the Hale house, he explained to Derek what had happened, the whole pack gathered around. Stiles told Derek because Derek had to know and it was only right for Derek to hand out his own punishment, but this is a bit too much.

"But Derek--" Boyd starts, and Stiles' isn't surprised when Derek totally cuts him off.

"I don't care what they said--"

It takes Stiles a moment to realize that Derek is actually being serious, like it shouldn't matter-- No, that makes no sense. 

"--you can't just let yourself lose control."

"It was a mistake," Stiles interjects before Derek really gets going. Derek might think Stiles can go on and on, on one of his rants, but when Derek gets all self-righteous on one of the pack, man.

Derek turns around, jaw clenched and Stiles doesn't shift his gaze to Derek's hands, to check for claws. "He shouldn't have done that," Derek states.

Stiles nods, agreeing with Derek on that point, at least. "Yes, he shouldn't have. And Boyd knows that." And even if he didn't, Derek reading him the riot act for the past ten minutes would have driven that point across. "Don't you Boyd?"

"Yes," Boyd says, loud and clear, head ducked and to the side, throat bared. To both Derek and Stiles.

Stiles nods at him, then turns to match Derek’s glare with one of his own. "But they were being assholes, the three of them. Boyd did right in defending himself, defending pack."

They all fall silent in that second, and Stiles can't help but think that this is the first time either of them has called themselves pack. Well, it was bound to happen. And maybe it's best that it's him that's said it, because all the werewolves can hear that his heartbeat is steady, his scent certain and solid.

They are finally, so long after, pack.

And nobody messes with their pack.

"I... have homework to finish," Isaac says, barely above a whisper. Stiles can see in his periphery Scott nodding along, saying, "me too."

"I'll help," Erica says immediately, and Boyd ducks his head even more, following them out of the living room and up to the second floor. Stiles can hear them whispering to one another as they make their way to Isaac's room, his door closing after a second.

Stiles glances back at Derek, though Derek's gaze has shifted somewhere above Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles sighs, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. His mouth feels very suddenly dry. "Their attempt at subtlety sure leaves a lot to be desired. I’m going to have to dock them points for that."

"Stiles," Derek says impatiently, sounding every inch the grumpy sourwolf Stiles knows him to be. Stiles can't help but smile, feel the corners of his lips pull up. "He has to be careful."

"He knows," Stiles says, half snort, half chuckling. They are so done with this conversation, he doesn't understand why Derek won't see it.

"The hunters--"

"God, Derek. He knows. You know he knows. There's no point--"

"They could have--"

"--in repeating it." Stiles says, sighs. He's closed the space between Derek and himself, somehow, without himself noticing. He's standing barely a foot from Derek. "You know they know better than that."

Derek's jaw is still so very tightly clenched, and Stiles can't help but want to reach out and press a fingertip to it, the line from his ear down to his chin. Stiles swallows. 

"They are pups," Derek says, confesses, the word almost scraped from his throat.

Stiles nods, smiling slightly. "Yeah, but they are also very good at control. If it had been me..." Stiles shrugs. "I would have broken that guy's arm."

Derek snorts, the tense atmosphere suddenly dissipating with just that sound. "Boyd says he also plays lacrosse."

"Yep. McLean, the ass. I totally would have." Stiles smirks, can feel his whole body thrumming with sudden excitement. He tells himself it's the idea of avenging pack. "Allison showed me a really cool move last month."

It was so cool. A shift and heel to the knee and hand on the throat, kinda cool. Lydia can make the move with style, but man, Stiles sure as hell can pack a punch with it. He loves it.

Derek smirks right back. "I know. I've seen."

Stiles nods, and knows that whatever it was that had been building, the anger at the edge of Derek's shoulders, in the line of his arms, it's gone. Stiles can't help but bounce a little on his heels, seeing Derek rolls his eyes as he does so.

And before he can think twice about it, he leans forward and places his arm around Derek's shoulder, almost a half hug but with some decent space in between them. He's grinning, even if his heart is racing in his chest, and he knows Derek can hear. He doesn't care. He's been touching almost everyone, as often as he could justify it to himself. Everyone but Derek. 

Stiles smiles, soft and sincere, and Derek stares at him for a moment before lowering his eyes.

After another second, Stiles lets go of Derek, making his way to the kitchen. Good neutral ground. Just what they both need.

"I'm starting on dinner!" Stiles calls out toward the staircase, "One of you is gonna help. I'm choosing Boyd!"

"Stiles," Boyd whines, clear and bright.

Stiles laughs as he walks past the counter, and opens the fridge. Boyd's gonna get grounded anyway, and Derek will probably put him to do something stupid and pointless, like cleaning the gutters or helping build a shed or something like that. Stiles thinks about suggesting they clean up the trail so it doesn't look like it's from a slasher movie.

"Boyd! You're still getting grounded after this, don't make it worse on yourself!"

Stiles waits a second, and then, hears Boyd say, barely audible for a human, "Oh, man."

*****

They don't end up going to the store until Tuesday, because the weekends it's always busy, and also because Isaac has coupons that are expiring soon, and there are some very good deals that end on Wednesday.

"We'll need two carts," Isaac says as they get off the Jeep.

Stiles nods. "Sure."

Isaac has his binder with him, and a list with a lot of numbers Stiles doesn't recognize on the side of the produce they are supposed to buy. 

"It's okay," Isaac says, smiling as he pushes his own cart. "I have it all ordered by aisle."

Stiles laughs, not sure why, but he presses his shoulder against Isaac's, shoving him a little to the side. Isaac chuckles, and lets himself be shoved (because they both know that Isaac could very well not move even an inch, unless he wanted to), before pressing against Stiles' shoulder again.

After a moment, they pull apart, but Stiles' bouncing on his feet, pleased. It's good, this thing he's trying to do, to get Isaac used to affection, even if it's only within the pack. He thinks they all need it, himself included, and if he has to be one to start it, well, he doesn't mind.

Maybe if he does it enough, one day Isaac will initiate it himself.

They start with cereal, something everyone likes, and considering Stiles has seen them (Derek and specially Boyd) eat cereal straight from the box, he can't oppose to getting large quantities of them. 

The retail value is $4.79, Isaac explains, Isaac has a coupon for $1.00 off, but the stacked with a mailing rebate for the full price of the item, they are actually making a dollar for each box of cereal. Stiles doesn't quite understand the math, but he's willing to believe Isaac on this. They mix it up between Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms. They get fourteen boxes total.

They also get Chocolate Quik, Isaac explains agains as he counts. "It's usually $ 1.50 per packet, on sale on 99¢, and I have a 60¢ coupon, but it doubles to $1.20, so I get it for free. Cool, huh?"

They move to the hotdogs, to packages of five each. They are for sale today, ten for ten, and Isaac has rebate coupons for $5 off for any products from this brand, so he can get five with one coupon for free. Isaac has five coupons. They get the twenty five packages.

They are other more fun things, like sodas and chips, snack mix. Also the boring stuff like pasta (that they are getting for free), forty boxes of them.

After that, Stiles steers them to the fresh produce section. They've bought too much crap (they've bought twenty bottles of soda, and really, even though they are werewolves, they can't keep drinking it like it's water) and it doesn't matter they won't get diabetes or high cholesterol, they need to start taking better care of themselves. Isaac shrugs, because he doesn't mind as long as they don't go over budget.

Stiles pushes Isaac toward the one place he can find greens, greens and nothing but greens. Stiles starts looking for lettuces and wonders if he can make them a salad today, before everyone notices the bags of chips and go there instead. As he's choosing between three bags of lettuces and decides to just take all there, Isaac finds a peely sticker. He gets excited about it, showing it to Stiles, who grins back at him.

"Oh," Isaac says after he opens it, slightly disappointed.

"What?"

Isaac shows the peely to Stiles, but points to the bar code. "See this 9 before the code? That means that it doesn't double. If it were 5, it would." He shrugs. "No problem. I can save it for another time."

Isaac looks relaxed, at ease, and Stiles thinks this might be the only time he can get away with asking. With the excuse of counting the bottles of soda Isaac has on his cart, Stiles presses his shoulder and the length of his arm against Isaac. "Where did you learn about cutting coupons?"

Stiles can feel Isaac tensing, his whole arm going rigid, and Stiles takes in a conscious breath, slow and deep, before letting out slowly. He tries to project friendship and companionship, the safety that only being with pack can give them all, can give Stiles. He hopes it comes out in his smell, even in an area as wide open as the grocery store.

They stand there for a second, and without really thinking about it before he can stop himself, Stiles turns his face to the side, nose barely touching Isaac's shoulder. It's called scenting, and though he hasn't seen the rest of the betas do it much to one another, he's seen Scott do it to Allison a couple of times, and Erica to Lydia. Stiles presses his nose against Isaac's shoulder once again, before pulling away.

Stiles takes another breath, two, and then he can feel Isaac's whole body relax, his arm and side where they are touching. Stiles smiles, and doesn't move.

"My mom," Isaac says, shrugging as he does so, with the shoulder that's not against Stiles' side. "I remember... I remember her couponing when I was little."

Isaac ducks his head, and Stiles can see him biting on his lips, his mouth twisted in a grimace. Stiles tilts his head to the side, temple against Isaac's shoulder. He makes an encouraging noise.

"I still..." Isaac pauses and Stiles waits. He could wait hours for Isaac, for one of the pups. "I still have some of her old coupons, in this box she used to keep them in."

"Oh," Stiles breathes out, softly, and presses himself tighter against Isaac's side. For a moment Stiles can't breathe, and all he can think of his mom, and the way she would smile at him when waking him for school, and her arms around him when she'd hug him. He takes in a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and can feel her hair against his cheek as he'd cuddle to her, the press of a kiss on his forehead.

He forces himself away from the memory, because it's not the time, and Isaac needs him more. And Stiles' been pushing this, the touching, because he's done his research and wolves are just as tactile as lupines, and he's certain that werewolves should be too. He'd wondered about that months ago, wondered about asking Derek, but he couldn't even imagine how he'd start that conversation, considering he knew well enough that it would end up with Derek thinking about his family, and getting that blank look on his face that meant he pretending not to feel anything.

So he hadn't. But Stiles' confident in his research. And on that note, he shifts, right arm curling around Isaac's waist. It's too touchy feely for a public place, they probably look more like a couple than friends, but Stiles can't quite care so much. Isaac needs it, and a bit of Stiles needs it to. So he settles his hand on Isaac's waist and squeezes a bit.

Isaac lets out a small noise, like contentment and happiness and Stiles can't help but imagine how that might smell like, maybe like warmth and delight, like fresh baked bread.

Stiles squeezes Isaac one more time, one final time, before pulling away. When he turns to look at Isaac, Isaac's head is ducked, and his cheeks are tinged pink, but his whole demeanor is relaxed and easy, and Stiles will take what he can get.

After that, they make their way to the cashiers, Isaac going over the items in both carts one last time, checking it against what he has on his list. Isaac figures it's be about four hundred dollars, retail price.

Stiles starts worrying at his cuticle. "Do you have four hundred bucks?"

Because Stiles doesn't. He has about seventy bucks in his wallet, and maybe he could pawn off whatever he has in his jeep for about fifty bucks, but that's about it. Well, he has the emergency credit card, but his dad will kill him if he uses it for food that's not even going to his house.

"Nope," Isaac says, totally unconcerned, as he finishes counting. "I don't need them."

"How much do you actually have?" Stiles wonders, because he figures that's actually a pretty good question.

Isaac grins, big and happy and so very young in that second (yes, younger than Stiles, thank you), almost bouncing on his feet. "Eighty bucks."

As they are waiting for a woman with two kids to finish her purchase, Isaac tells Stiles that they need to put everything in order (meaning all similar items one after the other) so Isaac can make sure they are getting the numbers they need, not one item too many. Stiles nods, and then they are loading everything into the conveyor belt.

Stiles helps Isaac count everyone one last time, as they keep going through the scanner. Isaac hands over his store card, where apparently, he's already loaded some (a lot) online coupons that the store allows. Stiles really wasn't counting on those. Then there's the in store credit from previous visits to the store, and finally, they go over the coupons.

Stiles notices a couple in their thirties waiting in line behind Isaac and him, and then about two teenagers. Stiles grimaces, and moves past Isaac (who's closer to the cashier's screen) and toward the couple, makes their excuses and tells them that they might want to line up on another cashier, considering Isaac has a lot of coupons to go through.

The couple gives Stiles the stink eye, but really, he's doing them a favor. They've been waiting in line for over twenty minutes already. The two teenager shrug, say they don't mind waiting, then dive back into their cellphones. Okay, whatever.

It takes almost forty minutes to check out completely, and by the time they are done, even the clerk looks like she wants out, now, right now. Even Isaac looks a little bit tired, but Stiles thinks it might be more about what they ended up talking about than the grocery run.  
Stiles, for his part, is dead on his feet.

"Final cost is $73.87. Will you pay with cash or card?"

Stiles blinks, finally registering the cashier talking, and glances at the total before coupons and store card, and it says. Holy fuck. It says $ 497.96. He turns to look at Isaac.

Isaac's grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on his feet, hands clasped together, and Stiles has never seen him happier.

"Dude." That's pretty much all Stiles can say, because he's surprised and impressed and a few more words he can't even find in his brain. Holy shit. He turns around to Isaac, who chuckles, carefree and happy. "That's, wow. That's just wow." Stiles can't help it, he shoves Isaac to the side, jokingly, and barely even manages to move him. 

Isaac just stands there, head ducked, looking bashful. Stiles can almost hear him chuckling under his breath, yeah, right, laugh at the human. "It wasn't that hard." Isaac chuckles again, moving toward where their bags are. And man, there are so many bags.

"You're gonna carry everything while I bring the Jeep around, right?" Stiles asks, big grin on his face.

Isaac looks at him, an eyebrow raised, very Derek of him, and Stiles laughs, and laughs.

*****

The jeep's trunk ends up full to the brim, and as they drive to the house, Isaac comes to the conclusion that it's not gonna fit in the pantry. Stiles kinda thought that the minute they topped their second cart. The pantry is full as it is.

They end up unloading everything in the garage that Derek requested specifically, because apparently he does care when his Camaro spends the night in the rain, who knew.

They unpack everything in a corner of the garage, bag after bag. It's too much food, too many bags, to leave there for too long. It looks awful as it is, and Stiles never thought that cluttering Derek's garage would bother him. Stiles stands there for a second, wipes his brow and turns to look at Isaac as he places the last six bags on the floor. It's okay for Stiles to only haul two while Isaac hauls six; it's not unfair, because Isaac is a werewolf and Stiles is only human, so there.

"Two things," Stiles says, taking in a deep breath. Isaac isn't even winded, the asshole. "First, next time you plan a purchase like this--"

"It's called a haul--"

"Okay, okay, a haul like this, I'm helping you plot it because, dude, too much sugar and hot dogs and things that you guys shouldn't be eating." Stiles can't help but fold his arms over his chest, looking at the bags, and knowing exactly what's inside each and every bag. God. His dad would kill Derek just to get to half those things. "I don't care that you are werewolves, you four are sixteen! And Derek is only twenty-four going on forty, so whatever."

The corner of Isaac's lips curl upward, small but there, and then he's ducking his head and blushing. And Stiles knows that of the lot of them, Isaac is always the one most surprised when someone worries about them, cares enough to worry they might get cavities and triglycerides through the roof.

That, and Isaac will probably go blabber to Boyd and Erica how Stiles' behaving like a mom, again. Werewolves, really.

"Two," Stiles says, not giving Isaac time to make him act more like a mother of three (four if they count Scott, which he should), and to stop himself from ruffling Isaac's curls, "We can't leave the garage looking like this."

"We're gonna need a plan," Isaac says with a frown, his curls falling onto his eyebrows. And Stiles has no self-restraint, at all, because next thing he knows, he's pushing back the curls, never mind that Isaac is a bit taller than him and he has to stand on his toes.

Isaac blushes again, a deeper red on his cheeks and ducking his head. He hunches forward, making it easier for Stiles to card his hand though the curls once again. Stiles clears his throat, nods, his hand falling to his side before he does something even more weird, like pinching Isaac's cheeks. 

Anyway. They're gonna need some industrial shelving or something.

"Shelving," he says, nodding around the place. It's pretty empty as it is, only Stiles' Jeep inside, not even the Camaro. Where the hell is Derek, anyway? "Heavy. And more than enough."

"Think Derek would mind?" Isaac asks, looking uncertain and worried around the edges.

Stiles turns to look at him, grin on his lips. "Are you kidding? I'm sure we can even get him to put them up!"

Yep. All they have to do is ask. Well, Stiles can ask and have Isaac as back up, and Derek will totally cave. That's a plan.

*****

It's not that difficult, really, to talk Derek into the shelves. Isaac goes to buy them with Stiles the next day, and that same afternoon Derek puts them up as Isaac goes running with Boyd, because Stiles tells Isaac to, and assures him that they've got it, don't worry, go. 

Isaac looks a little bit unsure, and Stiles can't help but sigh and reach up. Isaac hunches in on himself, and Stiles runs his fingers through Isaac's hair. Isaac doesn't purr, but it's a close thing, and he does lean into Stiles' hand, pushes against it for a second, before pulling back and actually leaving.

Derek stares at him, and Stiles pretends not to notice as he starts opening the boxes for the shelves.

Derek does all of the work, actually, for which Stiles is very much grateful. Stiles just goes into the kitchen and makes sandwiches, enough for the two of them, and for Isaac and Boyd for when they return from his run, and for Erica and Scott, wherever they might come home.

"You've been good to him," Derek says, totally out of the blue, as he's bolting the pieces together. The shelving unit is iron, strong and sturdy, and if need be, can be used as a weapon in a fight. Everything, Stiles things, should always have a second purpose in life.

"What?" Stiles blinks, turns to look at him from his AP Trigonometry test, book opened on his lap as he sat on the floor. 

Derek shrugs, back still to Stiles, reaching for another metal bolt. "Isaac. You've been. Really good." He pauses, and then completes, "to him. To all of them."

Stiles snorts, and he can almost see Derek's shoulders tense, just slightly. He takes in a breath and then lets it out slowly. Okay, wrong move, but man, how does anyone talk about that?

"I'm... it's not like I'm trying. He's just... Isaac's easy to like, you know? Easier to make happy, too."

Derek doesn't move, or Stiles thinks he doesn't move, and then his shoulders relax just a little bit, and Stiles allows himself to smile, his own hands relaxing. He wonders how he smells like, at times like this. Does he smell different?

"He's a good pup," Stiles says, the word just leaving his lips, and he can feel himself gasp. God. No. Ho, no, no. He shouldn't have said that. 

Stiles can't help but feel that that's Derek's word for them. Well, he's only called them that, like, twice, but still. It's Derek's, not Stiles', and Stiles wouldn't want Derek to think that he's trying to take it away from him. Which, of course, is not what he's trying to do, at all, he's just, well, he's just trying to help. There are four werewolves and only one Derek, one Alpha, and it'd be stupid to ask Derek to do it all himself.

Stiles just sits there, still, waiting for Derek to say something, to do something. Derek's shoulders aren't tense, which is good, but they aren't relaxed either. They are sitting there, not moving. 

Stiles takes in a breath, then lets it out, slowly, carefully. He waits. 

Derek sighs after a moment, loud enough that Stiles can hear him. He starts bolting one of the top pieces before picking up another, and Stiles thinks that's it, they aren't gonna talk about it anymore.

Which goes to hell when Derek, after another minute says, "He is," soft enough that Stiles can barely hear him.

Stiles swallows tightly, nods, even though Derek still has his back to him. 

They don't talk more about it.

*****

They really don't, but after that, it's a bit easier, in a way, to stop being so careful with Isaac, to touch him more, on the shoulder or the neck, on the hand or the elbow, to ask him to put something in the washer or to pass the plates.

It expands to the rest of the pack as well. As if Derek has given him an unspoken permission, that Stiles didn't even realize he needed. Because touching Scott has always been easy, since they were kids, to hug him or just throw an arm around his shoulders. But Erica and Boyd were always on the other side of this wall that Stiles never dared cross.

Now it's different. He still helps Boyd with is homework sometimes, and still makes Erica his chicken, avocado and pickle sandwich for lunch, because it's her favorite, but it's like he can actually touch them now, not just drift around them.

Stiles hugs Erica when she aces her Biology midterm and pats Boyd manly in the back when Stiles ends up with the flue and Boyd handles dinner all by himself. They help more with the chores, don't complain as much as they used to, when he's cooking.

And when he sends all three of them to wash their hands before dinner, Erica says, "Yes, mom." Stiles could have felt insulted, but instead he says, "That's heteronormative bullshit!"

He can hear Erica cackle on her way to the bathroom.

It's good, all things considered.

*****

Two weeks after that, Isaac's starting his studying for finals as he clips coupons to distract himself, and Stiles can't help but count the days until he can be done with Physics. It's only seven weeks before the end of the year, and it's late, easy after midnight, as the two of them sit on the couch before the TV.

It's a school night, and though Isaac had an early afternoon shift at the diner (he'd quit the graveyard last year, and everyone had backed him up on that), and had come home with the idea of studying, he'd actually fallen a little after eleven, his head on Stiles' shoulder before a rerun of Law and Order SVU.

Stiles shifts, hoping to wake Isaac slowly, but then Isaac is grumbling under his breath, shoving soft smelling curls under Stiles' nose. Next thing he knows, Isaac ends up lying down with his head on Stiles' lap.

He sighs, and it's so late and he's tired, but man, he doesn't want to wake up Isaac. Boyd has already left for his house, deciding to run over there and Erica went to bed upstairs, one of the few times she's actually staying over after telling her mom she's staying with Lydia. Scott left right after diner. He thinks about just moving around Isaac and leaving him on the couch, but he doesn't want to do that.

It's then that he hears the footsteps on the stairs, and he turns his head around to see who's coming down. It's Derek, in nothing but flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt, rubbing a hand over his eyes, like Stiles just woke him up. He looks indubitably adorable.

"You both still down here?"

Stiles shrugs, not moving much, not wanting to wake up Isaac. And it's only when he looks down that he realizes that he's been running his fingers through Isaac's curls all this time. Man, how did he not notice?

"Oh," Derek says when he notices that Isaac's head and Stiles' hand and the way Isaac seems to be burying his face into Stiles' stomach.

"I didn't have the heart to wake him," Stiles explanations, and even he can hear the tiredness in his voice.

Derek's lips curl upward, a soft smile, there and then gone. It might be the lateness of the hour that allow Derek to show Stiles even that much of himself. In that moment, Stiles' glad he didn't wake Isaac.

"I can probably take him upstairs without waking him," Derek says with a shrug, looking down Isaac. There's a softness in Derek's eyes, almost like he is his pup, a child, that needs protection, and not someone who could kill Stiles with only one hand.

"You'll pull your back." Stiles chuckles at his own joke, sleepy but a bit more awake.

Derek gives him another smile, soft around the corners, and he doesn't have to say werewolf for Stiles to smile back.

Stiles shakes his head, because Isaac might be a big puppy, but he's still so not a puppy. He shakes Isaac's shoulder slightly, slowly, then runs a hand through his curls. "Hey, pup. Wake up. Time to go to bed."

The word once again leaves him breathless, because he might have said it twice, but for him, it will always be Derek's words to the pack, to show them that he cares.

He tells himself he doesn't react, just shakes Isaac a bit more, until Isaac's sitting up and rubbing at his eyes with both hands, like a toddler.

Stiles shoves a hand into his hair, an Isaac leans into the touch, purring a bit under his throat. "Time for bed, sleepy head," he says, softly, quietly.

Isaac nods, standing up without really waking up, and Derek reaches for him, leading him up the stairs. Stiles follows, mostly because he wonders if Isaac will actually wake up or just face plant on his bed.

Derek leads Isaac to his room, but it's Stiles who walks inside with Isaac, pushes him down on the bed and takes off his shoes and jeans before making sure he's actually covered with the comforter. He feels like a parent in that moment, but doesn't care, just runs his fingers through the curls once again, and stops himself from actually placing a kiss on Isaac's forehead.

Stiles' pushing the door closed behind him, leaving it slightly ajar just in case, when Derek's there, before him, frown on his face.

They are standing too close, barely inches from one another, Stiles sleepy and Derek still looks bed ruffled. Derek stands there and Stiles blinks, wonders if he should push Derek away or just walk around. And yet Stiles can only stand still.

Derek leans forward, and Stiles holds in his breath, eyes almost closing as Derek nuzzles at Stiles' neck, jaw, the hollow of his throat.

Stiles stands still, barely even breathing, afraid that if he moves, Derek will walk away.

Stiles can feel Derek scenting him, taking everything in, the smell of the house and the pack, the lasagna Stiles made for dinner, the Coke he had with it, the salad he made Boyd and Erica make.

When Derek pulls back, only far enough that his nose to barely touches Stiles' chin, his eyes are still half closed, lidded and sleepy.

"You smell like the pups."

Stiles breathes out, stops himself from nodding, from moving. "I do."

"You smell like pack."

Any other time, Stiles would have answered back that he was pack, that he was part of this pack, whether Derek liked it or not. But he doesn't, because he knows. He's knows he's pack, as much as he knows Boyd's favorite cereal and that Erica's bites her nails when she studies, the shape of Isaac's mother's box where her coupons still lie.

He holds still and curls his hands into fists, to stop himself from reaching for Derek. He wants to, God, he wants to. After a breath, he can' stop himself any longer. His hands reach for Derek's waist, Derek's hips.

Stiles gasps under his throat, not quite holding still and breathes Derek in and the moment stretches into minutes and--

Derek jerks back, takes a step back and then another. His face is in a grimace even as he turns away, his back to Stiles. 

Stiles frowns, lets his head thumb back against the threshold, lets out a sigh in confusion. "Derek--"

"Erica's having problems with Pre-Calc, she's--"

"I know. Allison's tutoring her and Lydia's helping her with a big Bio project she has, and I'm helping Boyd with Chem."

You know this, he doesn't say. You know this because we've talked about this.

Derek nods, takes another step down the hall, still turned away from Stiles. He pauses before he puts even more space between them. "You shouldn't drive like that, you're more asleep than awake."

Yes, Stiles knows, he's been thinking the same thing. He was thinking about crashing in Isaac's room but Isaac was so out of it that he never got around to ask him. And now they are here, standing in the hallway to the rooms, Derek's back still to him.

"You should--"

"I'm fine," Stiles spats. He can feel his chest tight and cold and his hands still curled into fists. He's never felt more confused, more rejected, and he knows that if he were to deck Derek, it would hurt Stiles more than him.

Derek finally turns around, anger in the tilt of his eyebrows. "You're tired."

"I was." I'm not anymore, he doesn't say, you ass. He doesn't need to. "I'll take a sports drink, God knows we have enough bottles to last until the end of the school year."

He snorts, shakes his head. He'd thought-- For just one second, he thought. God. He's such an idiot, such a teenager, with a stupid blinding crush. For one moment, one single moment he'd actually thought Derek might--

"I'm gonna go," he whispers, turns around and makes his way down the stairs.

"Stiles--"

Stiles doesn't say anything back, doesn't care that he hears Derek's confusion. He doesn't care.

He walks into the living room, picks up his messenger bag and drops it across his shoulders before walking out of the house. He doesn't hear Derek call out for him again, he tells himself he doesn't care that Derek doesn't.

He's jumping into his Jeep before he can think twice about it, throwing the bag on the passenger seat and starting the engine.

Stiles makes his way down the road, out of Hale property and into the interstate. He shifts to second, takes a deep breath. He's not, he's not doing this. He can't be doing this.

He's done. He's pack, he will always be pack, but everything else. Everything else he'd been feeling, he'd been telling himself Derek had to be feeling back, how could he not be. Stiles shakes his head, can feel his eyes stinging, his hands curling tighter around the steering wheel. He takes a left, reaching the surface streets. No, he's done. He's done with Derek and whatever else he'd stupidly hoped, a teenage crush, as unrealistic as the thing he used to have for Lydia. He's done. He won't do that to himself anymore. He just won't.

Derek is his Alpha, and that's all he ever will be. And Stiles can live with that, will settle for that. Derek's a friend, a good friend, finally, and it's better this way. No more... no more nothing. That's it.

And with that decided, Stiles closes his eyes for just one second, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them, all he can see is the headlights of the car right in front of him.

He doesn't even feel the impact.

**Author's Note:**

> I really truly didn't mean it for it to end like that (Stiles crashes his car against a truck, but he doesn't die! I swear! He just... gets really hurt? Hospital levels of hurt?) And I haven't tagged it because for me, the story doesn't end there. Yes, because I apparently I like angst more than fluff. This was supposed to be a very light fluffy Isaac centric story and then Stiles went and did that. It's all his fault, I swear.


End file.
